It's Not the Same Now
by GingerHannah
Summary: Upon returning to Hogwarts for seventh year Ron and Draco find that they aren't coping. They both carry guilt over what occured in the war and the castle reminds them both of the horrific events that occured there. Maybe their odd new friendship will make school easier, or maybe it will just bring up more complications. Book compliant, ignores epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first fanfic, so I would really appreciate any advice and reviews. Also, I suspect I may be a slow updater, but I will not desert the story. And, obviously, I do not own the characters or places. Without further ado: _Chapter 1.

Few students had returned to Hogwarts to complete their seventh year. Draco empathised with all the people who had chosen not to return, the castle only seemed to be full of bad memories these days. Instead of remembering quidditch games or potions classes when he gazed upon the castle, he only recalled the events in the astronomy tower, hours spent alone in the Room of Requirement, where he was not even convinced he was fighting for the right side, and the death of Crabbe. However with the reputation he carried a job would be hard to acquire. No matter how hard it would be to gain them, Draco thought that gaining his NEWTs would make life in the future easier.

Walking into the Great Hall on his first night back at Hogwarts was hard. He could avoid certain other places; he'd transferred from astronomy to arithmancy, and did his best to forget that the Room of Requirement had ever existed (anyway, it probably didn't work after the Fiendfyre had been through it), but he saw no feasible way of avoiding the Great Hall. When he walked in he imagined he saw all the bodies laid out. Teachers and students, Hogsmeade residents, Order members, Death Eaters, giants and werewolves. Mostly people he'd never met, but in a small way he felt that he was personally responsible for the death of them all. He was weak, and he's done what he was told, he had never had the guts to stand up to anyone when it mattered.

ONE WEEK PREVIOUSLY

"I'm not going," shouted Harry, exasperation at Hermione radiating from his body.

Frustration made Harry sound harsher than he'd planned.

"School's important, Harry," stated Hermione. "It doesn't have to be Hogwarts, but you ought to complete your education. There's a small wizarding academy in Australia, and people there were virtually unaffected by the war."

"Hermione, I've got it sorted. When we've put a bit of time between us and the war, Bagman's going to set me up with an internship at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. In the meantime, I'm gonna help out around Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, seeing that George is obviously not coping, but still doesn't want to leave the shop any longer. Besides," he added, when Hermione looked like she might continue her argument. "You don't want to go to a little school in Australia. I know you, Hermione. You'll want to finish school at an institution with some prestige, even if it's not Hogwarts."

Hermione smiled guiltily. "I _was _hoping that you might agree to Beauxbatons," she admitted.

"What about Ron? Is he still insistent that he finish school at Hogwarts with Ginny?" queried Harry.

He turned back towards the stove where he was preparing dinner. Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny had been living at Grimmauld Place, but Harry and Hermione usually ate alone, as Ron and Ginny spent a lot of time at The Burrow.

"Yes, but Harry... you've got to understand... I. I just can't go back there Harry."

"Course I understand. Whenever I think of the castle I think of Crabbe burning to death, or Dumbledore spread-eagled on the ground at the base of the astronomy tower, or all those people stretched out in the Hall. Dead, because I couldn't save them in time."

"God, Harry, it wasn't your fault," whispered Hermione, almost silently.

"I know. I know Hermione, it just-"

"-Doesn't feel that way. I feel the same." Hermione paused, desperately searching for a new topic of conversation. "I'm going to miss you both. I'll be in France and Ron'll be in Wales and you'll be here in England. Promise you'll write to me Harry. To me and Ron, and give a hug to all the Weasley's for me when you see them."

"Will do. And I'll keep hounding the ministry to track down Wendell and Monica Wilkins."

"It could be years. There are so many missing people," shrugged Hermione, awkwardly.

Harry lent across the kitchen table and gathered Hermione in his arms. "We're gonna be fine, 'Mione. We'll all be together for Christmas at The Burrow, it'll be almost like old times."

ONE WEEK LATER

"I'll go tomorrow Ginny. I'll feel better by then," Ron spat.

They both knew this to be a blatant lie, but Ginny could see that returning to Hogwarts had shaken Ron up, so she let the lie slide. The siblings were standing outside the Great Hall. They'd stood there throughout the sorting and Ron still refused to enter, even for the feast.

"You go in. I think I'll eat in the kitchens," Ron added.

Ginny looked at him, searching his eyes for something that would reassure her that Ron would be fine.

"I just can't cope with all the people tonight," elaborated Ron.

Ginny smiled sadly at him. "Why did you come Ron? You're not ready for this."

"I shouldn't have left the family last year. Fred died and I'd hardly talked to him for a year. I'd heard him on Potterwatch, and said about two things to him that night, before the battle. I didn't want to leave you here alone. I thought about convincing you to go to Beauxbatons, like 'Mione's doing- it'd be different there. Less bad memories. But I," he paused, hoping Ginny could understand "I couldn't face being that far from The Burrow, Shell Cottage and George's place."

Instead of understanding, he was met only with pity. Ginny didn't understand how she felt, and he didn't expect her to. A lot of students had traumatic mental associations with Hogwarts; Ginny herself had spent most of last year locked in the Room of Requirement. Anyone who had attended first year during the war, had not come back for this year: they'd never experienced what Hogwarts could really be. However Hermione appeared to be the only one who fully understood that 'guilt over leaving your family in a dangerous position' thing, as well as the 'if we'd done this sooner' and the eternally torturous feeling of 'wasn't it obvious that the Horcrux was that/there'.

* * *

Draco Malfoy watched Ginny Weasley enter the Hall late, and for the first time he envied her, he wished he had her family, which was something he never would have thought he would desire. Nobody in the Weasley household would have made him face any of the horrors that his Father and Aunt thrust him into. Although even as he was consumed in these self-indulgent thoughts, he still managed to inflict himself with a reasonable dose of self hate. "I was pleased when I was awarded the Dark Mark. I looked favourably upon the task of killing Albus Dumbledore, and sneaking Death Eaters into Hogwarts, just because I believed I could win back the favouritism our family had lost when Dad was jailed. I didn't think about anybody else's safety til it was too late. Not Harry or Dumbledore, not even Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle, I thought of no one. I'm a really selfish loser," he thought, conclusively.

Draco knew that he'd been on the wrong side of the war. He'd just been too wimpy to take a stand or leave the Death Eater ranks. He was dealing with the consequences of this now that the war was over. "I'm a mess," he admitted to himself. "I'll probably spend this year pitying myself and sobbing my heart out in a toilet cubicle. It'll be a repeat of sixth year."

Treacle pie and other delicacies appeared on the decadently laid out table before him. Instead of reaching for a spoon, Draco strode out of the hall. He contorted his face into his trademark sneer, when he got funny looks for leaving early and was pleased that it still had the same effect as it had before the war. Everyone turned away from Draco awkwardly and continued to eat dessert. Before he could force his way through the front doors of the castle, he caught sight of Ron sitting on the cold floor of the Entrance Hall. Ron looked as depressed, out of his depth, utterly scared and alone as Draco felt. He threw what he hoped came off as an understanding smile in Ron's direction, fearing that it actually appeared more like a malicious sneer or an at-least-I-haven't-been-crying-like-you grin.


	2. Chapter 2

A week had passed since the school term began. Ron found himself attending all his classes without taking in any information. All his meals were taken in the kitchens where he was occasionally accompanied by Ginny, but more often than not he ate his meals with only the house elves for company. Then, after dinner, Ron hurried to bed as early as possible, so as to avoid talking to Seamus, Dean and Parvati, who were the only other Gryffindor's who had stayed on to complete their seventh year.

Draco, on the other hand, threw himself into his studies with a vigour that even Hermione never aspired to. In class Draco's focus never wavered and his breaks were spent alone in the library. When the library closed he returned to his room with a stack of books. As the only seventh year among the Slytherin boys he had the dorm to himself. Slytherin's had been ostracised by other students this year, even by the Ravenclaw's, with whom they usually got along well. To avoid this, many Slytherin's had transferred to Durmstrang, but Lucius would have liked to see his son at Durmstrang, so Draco had insisted on returning to Hogwarts. Draco didn't feel like following the wishes of anyone in his family anymore.

* * *

House-elves fussed about in the kitchens, adding to the large spread of food that was set out before Ginny and Ron. Many things had changed since Ron Weasley had first graced the halls of Hogwarts School over seven years ago, but Ron's large appetite had remained the same. He downed copious amounts of food to fill his cavernous stomach, and the house-elves were only too happy to oblige this practice.

"I got partnered with Malfoy today, in Potions," Ron told Ginny.

Ginny looked up at her brother.

"Couldn't you have explained to Professor Slughorn that you shouldn't be with Malfoy? He ought to have realised that. I'll speak to him for you."

Ron sighed. "You don't need to look after me Ginny, I'm older than you. I was just going to say... Have you seen him lately? He doesn't look like he attends meals and-"

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk," interjected Ginny.

Ron quickly rephrased his thoughts.

"He doesn't look like he's eating. He's really thin and he..."

Ron wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. 'Studies too much' didn't convey how serious Ron thought the situation actually was, and 'blonde and petite' didn't do it either.

Luckily Ginny could see what Ron was getting at.

"He looks as desperate and pathetic and afraid as you do," stated Ginny. "Neither of you were ready for this. And I haven't seen him at meals if that's what you're trying to ask."

Instantly she regretted saying anything. Ginny wasn't sure how Ron would take being compared to Draco Malfoy, and he had just told her to stop trying to look after him. Telling him that he was not coping was unlikely to go down well, especially as she knew that their parents had tried to convince Ron that this would be the case before they left for school.

To Ginny's immense surprise Ron just nodded. "She's right," thought Ron, "I'm worried about Malfoy because we're both in the same situation. Both not coping. Both avoiding people and meals. Except I've got people to turn to; Ginny and the rest of my family, Harry, Hermione and McGonagall. Draco's got no one. Unless you count his family, but they're Death Eaters."

A small part of Ron kept reminding himself that Draco was also a Death eater, but he ignored it. When Ron looked at Draco he saw a scared teenager who required help.

* * *

Draco had been relieved when Slughorn had paired up the seventh years during Potions class. It meant that he didn't have to watch the rest of the class desperately trying to avoid being left to partner 'The Death Eater'. He was also glad that Slughorn had paired him with Ron. Draco knew in himself that Ron held him in contempt, but he found that easier to deal with than someone like Ernie Macmillan, who appeared to be downright terrified every time he found himself in the same room as Draco.

Considering their history both boys had been pleasant to each other. Few words were exchanged; Draco launched into the potions making, with an enthusiasm that Ron had only ever seen matched by Percy if someone was stupid enough to mention shallow-bottomed cauldrons or Mr Crouch in his earshot. An interest in potions had eluded Ron at the best of times, and these days Ron had difficulty focusing in any subject. Ron just sat on his stool, quietly thinking, passing Draco ingredients if he asked Ron to. The Slytherin part of Draco realised that a friendship with Ron or a different individual who was widely recognised as being anti- dark arts, could be the first step in improving his own reputation. "But," thought Draco, "I wouldn't deserve the friendship of someone like that."

* * *

"Good afternoon," said McGonagall politely to Draco. Draco was seated across from the Professor in her office.

"I know that this is an issue that your own head of house would usually take up with you Malfoy, but it has been brought to my attention by a student from my house and I thought it would be easier if I talked to you myself, rather than passing the matter on to Professor Slughorn."

It was a well known fact that Slughorn had been against admitting Malfoy back to Hogwarts, so it was not necessary for McGonagall to explain to Draco why she had decided against leaving Professor Slughorn to address an issue that had arisen regarding Draco's education.

"It was brought to my attention," continued McGonagall, "that you have been eating dangerously little. The student also expressed concerns that you wouldn't have anyone to approach if you wanted to discuss any issues you were having. I've talked to Slughorn and, although as far as sleeping arrangements and house points are concerned you will still be a Slytherin, I will be acting as your head of house for the remainder of the year. If you have concerns at any point during the year I would be happy for you to broach them with me."

Draco nodded, not exactly sure if he was expected to say anything.

"Would you prefer to discuss your eating disorder with me of Madam Pomfrey?" queried McGonagall.

Minerva McGonagall hoped that Draco would choose Madam Pomfrey. She didn't feel qualified to deal with the boy who sat before her. A unconvicted, seemingly repentant, criminal in a very messy situation. The boy had been mistreated and abused by his closest relatives, used by the most powerful dark wizard and then rejected by his peers. Draco simply continued their conversation, ignoring the question, and McGonagall supposed that that was his answer.

"I wouldn't exactly call it an eating disorder." Draco pondered the matter for a second, before expanding on his statement. "I think it's more of a social disorder. I don't go to meals," he admitted. "It's not the food I take issue with; it's all the people in the Great Hall. They're all either scared of me or they hate me. I just want to get my NEWTS and then escape. Go somewhere that nobody knows me, maybe spend a year or two in the muggle world."

McGonagall nodded. "I want you to get through school as well Draco, and to survive the school year you will have to eat. I understand where you're coming from, in terms of the, not necessarily unfounded, fear that a lot of students have. Maybe an arrangement could be made, perhaps if you were able to pick up your food directly from the kitchens and consume it in a location of your own choosing?"

Draco smiled gratefully. "That would be really fantastic. Thank you, you've done more for me than you have to and I want you to know that I appreciate it."

If McGonagall was shocked by Draco's pleasant, and apparently heartfelt, response she didn't show it. Instead she smiled back at Draco.

"You are a smart boy, Draco Malfoy. You'll get your NEWT's and I'm sure you'll be able to rebuild your life however you choose."

Draco thanked McGonagall, before he stepped out of her office and turned towards the kitchens. As he strode down the corridor he wondered which student had been to see Professor McGonagall about him. Possibly there was a student out their who did not hate him! A Gryffindor student!

* * *

_Sorry if McGonagall seemed blunt, I found her a hard character to write; she's fair and can be nice, but is still sort of to the point. I may have made her a little too curt and insensitive._


	3. Chapter 3

Draco strolled towards the kitchens feeling reasonably relaxed. A good meal, on his own, sounded perfect. However, upon entering the kitchens, his good mood was shattered. Instantly Draco came to the realisation that he had spent so much time thinking about his own issues, he hadn't even considered the fact that other students may also have been reluctant to enter the Great Hall. After all, it had recently been used as a morgue. This realisation was the result of finding Ron Weasley seated at a table in the kitchen, heartily enjoying his own meal.

Ron turned as the door dropped shut behind Draco.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your meal or anything," murmured Draco as politely as he could, knowing that his disappointment over finding Ron in the kitchens probably showed on his face. "I'm just here to pick up something, and then I'll be leaving."

"Umm, nah, no worries Malfoy," said Ron. "Like, umm, maybe you could join me? I kind of wanted to talk to you anyway."

Draco stared at Ron ominously. Despite his misgivings Draco sat down next to Ron, and a house-elf brought another plate of food to the table.

"I wanted to say thanks for Malfoy Manor, you know, for lying to everyone for us," Ron said after a five minute silence in which they had both been shovelling down their food. I was kind of hoping we could get over these prejudices we both harbour... I don't hate you anymore," he admitted.

Draco snorted. Sniggering, with seemingly genuine amusement, not disdain, he turned to Ron. "Sorry. I guess I shouldn't find it amusing. I ought to be insanely glad that somebody doesn't hate me."

"I guess it's just mild dislike these days," Ron added jokingly, and the two boys grinned at each other.

"Well, the feeling of dislike is mutual, Weasley," agreed Draco, although if he knew that he didn't even feel that anymore.

"While we're here being civil to each other, I'd like to offer my gratitude to you and Potter and Granger. Thanks for getting me out of the Room of Requirement. Nobody would have been sorry if you'd left me there, in fact I suspect that some people are sorry that you got me out," said Draco, his tone was casual and smooth, but his expression didn't reflect the cavalier front.

The mood of the conversation dropped abruptly.

"Bloody hell Malfoy, don't hate yourself too much. Anyway," added Ron, as it seemed like something he should admit. "It was Harry's idea; you know what he's like with his saving people thing. He couldn't have left you, even if he'd wanted to."

Draco smiled half-heartedly, and he and Ron ate in silence for several long minutes.

* * *

It had been a Thursday, the first night Draco had sat down for dinner with Ron. Their interactions been unpleasant, but they also tended to be devoid of verbal communication. Tuesday evening found Draco and Ron seated in the same positions. Ron was the first to make an attempt to breach the rift that lay between himself and Draco.

"Let's pretend the war never happened. Where would you be right now?"

Ron was desperately trying to stick to safe topics- further discussions of the war with an ex-Death Eater didn't seem like something that he would want to engage in. This was harder than it seemed. It had been less than three months since that war ended, and everything seemed to be a reminder of something that had happened in the last few years.

"Certainly not with you," spat Draco.

"Oh bloody hell Malfoy. Forgive me for trying to make conversation with you. Let's just eat our dinner in unmitigated silence then, shall we?"

Draco stood up to leave and then halted. After a brief interlude he turned back to Ron.

"Look, umm, thanks for trying. Not many people do."

Draco picked up his dinner and left. Ron could not figure Draco out. He had never met anyone this emotionally complicated. Where was Hermione when he needed her? Ron felt sure that he needed her; nobody could be expected to interpret the emotions of somebody that complex without the help of Hermione.

* * *

The next night Ron was surprised to find Draco in the kitchens again, after his awkward exit at the previous dinner. Thoroughly over Draco's mood swings and sullen silences Ron made no attempt to communicate with him. After the plates had been cleared away Ron got to his feet before Draco. Draco's hand shot out and gently clasped Ron's wrist. Always wary after a year of living on the run evading the enemy, Ron's instincts were exceptional, and, within seconds, Ron had his wand pointed at Draco's exceptionally pale throat.

Draco released his hold on Ron's wrist and threw his hands in the air. Clearly scared, Draco stammered in his haste to get his words out. "I was just going to ask you to stay for a little while longer. I thought maybe we could have a game of chess."

Ron released his wand, his body wilted, and he dropped onto the seat besides Draco.

"I'm sorry," Ron whispered. "I feel terrible, Malfoy. I'm sorry I flipped out like that."

"Constant vigilance," said Draco flatly, "I wasn't a trustworthy person."

Draco seemed emotionless and Ron found this state harder to cope with than moodiness and instantaneous emotion changes.

"It could have been anyone," Ron stated. To himself Ron thought, "I wish it had been anyone else. I know you'll blame yourself." Out loud he said, "The war knocked me round. I startle easily."

Draco nodded, choosing to believe Ron's words. He couldn't spend the rest of his life blaming everything on his prior alliance with the Death Eaters. Besides whether or not it was true that Ron could have been scared by anyone, Ron was trying to be nice. It was so rare that anyone treated Draco decently.

"The other week," Ron continued, "I accidentally stunned my brother Charlie. I thought I was the only one home, heard some noises in the kitchen, burst in...it was bad. The war's left me as an untrusting, suspicious person."

"That's not true," Draco announced. "You're the only student in this school who doesn't run away screaming when I enter a room." Draco laughed tersely. "The war hasn't brought out the best in any of us. I wouldn't feel badly if I was you. You saved the fucking world, I think that cancels out accidentally rendering your brother unconscious and pointing your wand at me without even casting a mild jinx. That's nothing." Bitterly Draco added, "especially when you compare it to anything that I've done. They're all right to be terrified of me."

Tears formed in Draco's eyes. "I tortured so many innocent people."

Memories that usually hovered in the back of Draco's thoughts, flooded to the forefront, causing the boy to be overcome by the past.

Recalling the treatment Draco had received at Malfoy Manor, Ron felt compassion rise up inside him. He imagined the weeks on end Draco must have spent, forced into horrific circumstances and despicable acts of cruelty by Lucious, Bellatrix and Voldermort, only to return to Hogwarts, with the Carrows. Every part of Draco's life seemed to have been forced upon him, from subject choices to murder. A section of him wondering what he was doing, Ron wrapped an arm around Draco, uncertain of how the unpredictable, sobbing teenager would react. Draco simply leant into Ron's torso. The physical contact made Draco feel better. It was the first time anyone had touched him in months, and it was surprisingly comforting, he didn't feel quite so alienated or detestable. It was so different to crying with Moaning Myrtle in the school bathrooms, where Draco and the ghost had fed of each other's misery.

Despite the less than pleasant circumstances that had led to Ron cradling Draco in his arms, Ron enjoyed having his arms around Draco. He enjoyed feeling protective for a change. At home he was always treated like he was the one who needed to be cared for. It had always been like this with his parents and five older brothers.

Draco relaxed further, letting Ron support his body. Ron was nice to him, steady, had a cute mop of short, tousled red hair and didn't seem to mind Draco monopolising the position of the 'depressed psychotic who needs of help'; Draco wasn't sure is this was because the position wasn't overly coveted or if this selflessness was a side effect of growing up in a house with eight other people. Draco didn't even know if Ron always looked good or if it was just the fact that he was being so nice that made Draco think he did. Draco sat comfortably, lost in thoughts of Ron, who seemed appeared better looking than he ever had before. Draco could imagine running a hand across Ron's stubbly jaw, whilst letting his other hand wander across Ron's chest. He wondered what would happen if he lifted his head and placed his lips against Ron's, and then he wondered why he was thinking these things.

"This isn't right," announced Draco gruffly. He shifted on the seat, creating some distance between himself and Ron.

"What isn't right? Is it 'not right' for us to be upset after what we've been through?" questioned Ron sarcastically, annoyed at Draco's sudden mood changes. "Or is it 'not right' for us to put aside our childhood rivalries?"

"No, those things would be fine," said Draco, his voice a little more firm than necessary. His eyes darted around the room before they came to rest on Ron, however he found himself unable to meet the other boys eyes. "It's wrong for me to be practically sitting in your lap, whilst wondering what would happen if I kissed you, when all your trying to do is be nice to me at a time when no one else is."

Draco's eyes finally met Ron's. The stare Draco threw at Ron had a challenging edge to it. Despite the audacious glare, Draco obviously expected Ron to freak out, or act repulsed, and Ron wasn't going to let Draco be proven right. Impulsively Ron leant forwards and brushed his lips against Draco's, with the intention of showing Draco that nothing he could say was going to scare him away. Ron wasn't sure is he could even be friends with Draco, but he wouldn't be shaken off that easily. Ron paused, his face merely centimetres from Draco's. From this close distance Ron found himself more aware of Draco's flawless pale skin, smooth blonde tresses and long eyelashes. It might not have been a word generally used to describe a boy, but Draco was pretty.

Draco sprung up, giving Ron a fierce glare.

"I'm a Death Eater, Weasley. A murdering Death Eater, who tried to kill you, your family and your friends. You shouldn't forget that. Nobody else will," he hissed. 'I'm the wrong person for you to interact with in any fashion and I'm most definitely the wrong person for you to kiss."

And just like that, Ronald Weasley was once again sitting on his own, only this time it wasn't by choice.

* * *

Draco missed dinner the next night. Ron had expected him to be there. Ron realised that, in just a few days, he had become used to Draco's presence at dinner. He felt somewhat stupid for thinking that- of course it wasn't an unconditional presence. They weren't even friends; he was obviously upset with Ron, why would he turn up for dinner? Despite this the words 'wondering what would happen if I kissed you' kept running through Ron's head. "Let it go," Ron whispered to himself, and any house-elves who happened to be eaves dropping on his musings. "He obviously didn't mean that. Why do you care? Anyway," thought Ron, with finality, "he wondered what would happen and now he knows."

* * *

As a result of Draco having missed the previous nights dinner, Ron was fully prepared for his absence. Consequently Ron was not surprised to find Draco absent when he arrived in the kitchens. The only surprise was a short note lying on the table in the location that Ron was wont to sit.

Ron,

I think you may have voiced worries, concerning my food intake, to McGonagall, so I just wanted to write a quick note to inform you that I am still eating. I've already been to the kitchens today, as you can see. I appreciate the thought, and, to be honest, I did need the help. Sorry about last night.

D.M.

"What am I supposed to do after receiving a note like that?" Ron wondered. He was relieved that Draco was still eating, but the letter left so many other questions unanswered. He wasn't sure if the fact that Draco had written, instead of seeking out Ron out in person, meant that Draco was avoiding him or if it just meant that he thought Ron would be to angry to talk. Ron wasn't sure if Draco was sincere or sarcastic. Ron wasn't sure if Draco's apology meant that he wanted to try to be friends or if Draco was just trying to resolve the situation in a civil manner. It seemed that, when it came to Draco, Ron was just plain unsure.

Ron smiled at Ginny, who had decided to dine with Ron that night. Ginny talked incessantly through dinner and Ron allowed himself to be distracted. He laughed at Ginny's funny stories and commented where necessary. However, when dinner ended, Ron was absolutely powerless when it came to stopping his thoughts from hanging around Draco Malfoy. Ron didn't know what to do, but he was pretty sure knew someone who would.

* * *

_Please review, I love hearing what everyone thinks. :)_

_ This chapter was written pretty late at night, so I'm worried that it may be riddled with mistakes. If anyone happens to spot any grammatical or spelling errors, in any part of the story, could they please point them out._


	4. Chapter 4

_I wish I had been able to get around to writing this chapter sooner, it has been a long time, real life got in the way. I can't even promise to update the next chapter faster. Damn uni! Anyway, here's chapter 4. Please let me know what you think of this; whether you love it, hate it or couldn't care less, __**I want your **__**review**__._

* * *

There was a sharp knock on the door and Hermione could hear a boy, with a heavy French accent, calling her name, through the thick wood.

"Yes," said Hermione, opening the door to her Beauxbaton's sleeping quarters.

"You 'ave a fire call," the boy informed her."

Hermione had resolutely refused to cast a translation charm, outside of class, in an effort to improve her French. Unfortunately most of the students spoke almost flawless English, so, despite good intentions, Hermione had had almost no opportunity to practice her French.

"Thanks for letting me know, Isaac. Do you know who it is?"

"'Is name is Ron Weasley, 'e said," answered Isaac.

* * *

Nearly all the changes made during Severus Snape's brief rein as headmaster had been discarded. However Muggle Studies had been left as a compulsory subject in an effort to provide students with a more realistic view of the muggle world, rather than leave them with the ridiculous 'knowledge' imparted by Alecto Carrow. The seventh year class consisted of the four Gryffindor's; Lavender, Dean, Seamus and Ron, as well as Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan, who all sat in the front row. Then there were the Slytherin's, Draco and Millicent in the row behind. The Ravenclaw's had their own class, as more students from that house had stayed on to complete seventh year, than all of the other houses put together.

Draco didn't mind sitting with Millicent. They had never been particularly good friends, but after his and Ron's latest falling out, Draco found himself craving company. Engaging in a little small talk during the lesson gave his life the tiniest hint of normality. Millicent and Draco talked about mundane things such as their Transfiguration essay and what a 'CD' would probably look like. Draco didn't like to admit it, but another reason he engaged in conversation was the fact that talking to Millicent gave him an innocent reason not to be facing forward, just in case Ron happened to glance backwards.

* * *

Beauxbaton's students were permitted to spend their weekends away from school and Hermione had been spending her weekends at Grimmauld Place, with Harry. This weekend Hermione found herself particularly anxious to arrive; she couldn't keep Ron's secret to herself any longer.

"Harry we need to talk," said Hermione as she stumbled across the hearth of Grimmauld Place's floo. Harry looked bewildered, however he sat down in the Drawing Room, underneath the Black family tree. No further efforts to remove the tree had been made after the war ended. Harry had made a decision to keep all the old Black family relics until Kreacher passed away.

"Ron spoke to me during the week," began Hermione, before coming to a standstill. She hesitated, unsure if she was doing the right thing. Ron hadn't asked her to keep what he'd said a secret, but Hermione was certain that he'd expected her to. Hermione consoled herself by thinking that it was highly likely that Ron had also spoken to Harry.

"He told me a secret," continued Hermione, watching Harry's face to try and gauge his reaction. "He told me that-"

Harry cut her off. "Maybe you shouldn't tell me, if it's such a big secret."

Hermione bit her lip, clearly deliberating whether to reveal what Ron had told her. Harry glared across the room, his eyes drilling into Hermione, as if to accuse her of being untrustworthy. But he was too late. Hermione had come to a decision and was going to follow it through regardless of whether or not she had Harry's approval.

"I have to tell someone, Harry. I'm worried about Ron. I don't know if he's safe, and Harry," she lowered he voice, as if about to admit something terrible. "I'm not sure that I gave him the right advice. I need you to tell me what you think."

Hermione looked at Harry. Harry gave a non-committal jerk of his head, which Hermione took as encouragement to continue speaking. Even if Harry wasn't happy about Hermione spilling Ron's secrets he appeared to be listening to her.

Hermione spoke in a brisk, hurried fashion, her tone slightly frantic. Harry had been prepared to respect Ron's privacy, and wait until Ron himself told Harry his secret. However when the only phrases Harry managed to catch in Hermione's speedily delivered speech were "Slytherin deception," "blonde hair," and "ready to hex him," Harry had to admit that his curiosity had been piqued.

And of course he was worried about his friend; deception and hexes were never good.

"Hold it, hold it, hold it," interjected Harry. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Start again, tell me everything."

All of a sudden, Harry's eagerness to know his best friend's secret rivalled his Aunt Petunia's desire to learn all the details of her neighbour's lives.

"Well," began Hermione, feeling more comfortable with spilling the details of her and Ron's private conversation, now that Harry was obviously hankering to know everything Hermione knew. "First of all Ron told me that he thinks he might be gay, then-"

"Since when?" asked Harry, thoroughly surprised. "I always thought you and him... I mean especially after you kissed in the final battle."

"We both agreed that it was just an impulsive, one off," shrugged Hermione. "Neither off us wanted to do the whole relationship thing."

"I know that's what you'd agreed," said Harry. "I still thought it was just a matter of time til the you of you, sort of... you know... got together," he finished lamely.

"You're focusing on the smallest issue, Harry," said Hermione. "I can see how Ron being gay comes as a bit of a surprise, but the next part is a terrifying shock."

Harry looked at Hermione incredulously. He felt like telling Hermione to do her worst, what would shock him more than the fact that his best friend had huge secrets, and that one of them was Ron's sexual orientation. The only thing that stopped Harry from doing this was that his years in the magical world had taught him one thing; life can _always_ get stranger.

"I asked if there was a particular incident that caused him to realise that he might possibly be gay."

Hermione looked at Harry. "And," Harry prompted.

Harry felt slightly guilty for not waiting until Ron spoke to him, but he also felt a little put out that Ron had spoken to somebody else about this first. Anyway, Harry was hardly about to stop listening now, he was hanging on Hermione's words with bated breath.

"He said there was," added Hermione. "Then he said that a guy had kissed him, and then the two of them had had a fight and that he didn't know what to do, and he needed my opinion. He said he just never knew what the other wizard was thinking and-"

"Just 'a wizard'. No name?" interjected Harry, because Hermione seemed set to waffle on all night.

"This is the bit Ron was most scared to tell me," said Hermione. In her mind's eye she could still see how nervous Ron had looked when he revealed the identity of the boy that he had kissed.

"It's Dean," said Harry.

"Why would you think that?" asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged, flashing a confident and triumphant grin at Hermione.

Hermione laughed. Gossiping with Harry suddenly seemed fun.

"I wish," said Hermione. "It is not Dean."

Harry's brow furrowed in thought. Who would Hermione object to Ron dating?

"Zacharias Smith!" Harry exclaimed, feeling confident that he had guessed correctly. "Or... Cormac McLaggen!"

Hermione giggled at Harry's guessing game. "It starts with an M."

"Is it Michael Corner? 'Cause dating your sister's ex would be weird," declared Harry.

"It's Malfoy," said Hermione flatly, bring Harry's guessing game to an abrupt end.

"As in Draco?" asked Harry. He was sure that he'd misheard. Who could be attracted to a sneering Slytherin?

"No, as in Lucius," Hermione informed Harry sarcastically. "Yes, obviously Draco. How many other Malfoy's do we know?"

"Draco Malfoy! Hermione," shrieked Harry hysterically, "how is it obvious that Ron is dating Draco Malfoy?"

When Harry had recovered from the shock, as well as he possibly could, Hermione proceeded to fill Harry in on everything that Ron had told her.

* * *

Late Friday night found Ron determinedly gazing down a telescope. He was supposed to be charting Pluto's movements, but if he looked away from the night sky to rummage in his backpack for a quill, he would have to acknowledge Draco, who had unfortunately been assigned the telescope next to Ron's. Ron knew that eventually he should talk to Draco, but surely it was a conversation best had when they were not under the watchful eye of Professor Sinistra.

On Saturday morning Draco took the long route to the Owlery, so as to avoid walking past the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

Ron avoided looking at Draco when he caught sight of the blonde circling the lake on his broom. Even though Ron knew that it would look stupid, he almost considered turning around and walking back into the Entrance Hall. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he had already committed to lunch with Hagrid.

That evening Ron made himself trek down from Gryffindor common room to the library. The corridors that led from Gryffindor Tower to the library were ones that Hermione had dragged him down countless times. He felt lonely, as he made the trip on his own. It was probably the first time he had gone to the library of his own accord, but he knew that, even if Hermione was not around, his 18 inch Transfiguration essay would still need to be written. When he stepped into the silent library Ron noticed a blonde head quickly ducking behind a shelf of books. Seeing Draco use the same avoidance techniques Ron had been using, made Ron realise just how ridiculously he had been acting all day. Instantly he decided that he didn't care if Draco wanted to talk to him or not.

Ron moseyed casually across the library, heading directly for the shelves that Draco was using to shield himself from view. Ron stood awkwardly behind Draco for a second, before he cleared his throat noisily, in a desperate bid to force Draco to acknowledge him. Internally Ron squirmed as he realised how very similar to Dolores Umbridge he must have sounded. Outwardly, however, Ron was able to maintain a seemingly casual demeanour. Draco, on the other hand, seemed a little uneasy, if his fidgety motions were anything to go by.

Draco straightened, uneasily meeting Ron's eyes.

"Just looking for a particular book. I've been meaning to read this for ages."

Draco gestured at the book he had just pulled from the shelf. 'Cross Species Love- Seventh edition. A must read for anyone considering a relationship with a vampire, mermaid or centaur.' was splashed across the front of the book that Draco was clutching tightly in his hands.

"Really?" asked Ron sceptically.

Draco looked at the book in his hands. Ron watched carefully as a red hue spread across Draco's perfect cheeks. Embarrassment filled Draco, but the boy simply shrugged.

"I find vampires fascinating," Draco insisted. "If I ever find myself with the opportunity to sleep with a good looking vampire I'll want to be as informed on the subject as I possibly can be."

Ron nodded carefully, knowing better than to believe a word that came out of the, somewhat sexy, blonde.

Ron examined his shoelaces carefully before he opened his mouth.

"You see, the thing is..." he began. It was fairly obvious that he had not planned what he was going to say. "Things have changed a lot. Since then. Since the war. You and me have both changed a lot."

"Uh huh," said Draco.

"I liked having someone to eat with," Ron admitted impulsively. "I miss you sitting in the kitchens with me. I was hoping we could be... friends... or whatever... again. There's hardly any students in our whole year, nearly all our classes are together. Avoiding each other would be impractical and I don't want to be your enemy anymore."

A small smile graced Draco's aristocratic, normally unsmiling, face. Draco had been so sure that he'd blown any chance of being friends with Ron. But it seemed that neither plots to murder people Ron loved, nor rudeness, could drive the persistent redhead away, and for that Draco was grateful.

* * *

It appeared that an unspoken agreement had been reached. The two boys, Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy, would continue their tentative friendship. Neither of them mentioned the kiss.

* * *

Hastily Hermione packed her bag. Her Monday morning History of Modern Magic class was to begin in just under half an hour. She was holding a midnight blue witches hat in one hand and balancing a stack of library books on the opposite arm, all whilst attempting to levitate her toast in such a way that it would enter her open mouth, when Harry burst into the room. Everything dropped to the floor when Harry accidently broke Hermione's concentration.

"Opps," said Harry guiltily.

Hermione sighed deeply.

"You know the conversation we had about Ron on Friday night," Harry said carefully.

"Err, yes," was Hermione's tentative answer, as she knew that much of the information that Harry had received that night had been quite shocking, and neither of them had brought any of it up since.

"What was the advice you gave Ron, on how to handle the situation," asked Harry curiously.

"I told him that if he wants to be friends with Malfoy, he'll need to talk to him. Ron thought that maybe he should wait til Malfoy spoke to him, but I said that if you want someone the next move is always yours."

Harry nodded calmly. "He was brave enough to ask out Fleur Delacour in fourth year, I'm sure he can talk to Malfoy." Harry sucked in his breath. "I hope it turns out alright. I mean Malfoy _was _a Death Eater." Here Harry paused again, before saying gently, "he knows that no matter what we'll always be here for him, doesn't he? I wish he'd talked to me about all this."

Hermione sighed and wrapped a hand round Harry's shoulders. "He'll tell you when he's ready Harry."

Harry and Hermione sat quietly together, before Harry rushed off to work and Hermione hurried to shove some things into her trunk, before she flooed back to France. They were both terribly worried about Ron, but Ron was better than he'd been for days.

* * *

_Review, please! *Smiles winningly* :D _


	5. Chapter 5

_I know it's been a while, but I'm back... bringing with me the next instalment of this story. _

* * *

Draco and Ron sat at a table in the Hogwarts kitchen. A small amount of stilted conversation had been exchanged over dinner, but for the majority of the evening they had sat in silence. When the plates were empty Ron smiled shyly at Draco, said a quick goodbye, and stood to leave the table.

"Hey Weasley," drawled Draco. "If I remember correctly you were the boy who played 'the best game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years'. Maybe you'd play a game with me sometime?"

A smile spread across Ron's freckled face. As well as being pleased with how well he and Draco appeared to be getting on it also pleased him to have someone to play chess with. Everyone in his family had stopped playing him years ago, and Harry and Hermione both played terribly; it wasn't a challenge to play either of them. Draco had always been competitive and Ron suspected that he wouldn't have suggested a game of chess if he wasn't good at it.

* * *

The boys fell into something of a routine. The two of them ate dinner in the kitchens together every evening and, on nights when Draco decided that the seventh years hadn't been given too much homework, they played chess. As Ron had predicted Draco was competitive and the games were often intense, with neither boy winning more than the other. At other times the games were more of a reason to sit together then a struggle to win. When the games were like this the Draco and Ron engaged in conversation, whilst occasionally directing pieces around the board, rather than watching the game with a fierce determination and occasionally tossing casual comments across the table.

Draco realised that he had really begun to trust Ron. It certainly wasn't intentional, but all of a sudden he found himself opening up and being completely honest. He'd couldn't think of another instance in his life when he had ever been this honest. It was strangely liberating; he didn't have to pretend he loved Lord Voldermort and his family, and he no longer felt the need to pretend he hated Ron. Draco just talked and it was easier than he could ever have anticipated. There always seemed to be so much to say. Draco and Ron discussed the past, but they both stopped the other from dwelling on it. They conversed about the future, but didn't let the other worry about it when they could help it. They each helped make the present bearable for the other.

* * *

"Aren't you a tad bit worried that your father will find out you're socialising with a Gryffindor? Especially a 'blood traitor'," Ron asked one night.

Draco screwed up his face.

"I forget how often the words 'my father' used to pass through my lips," replied Draco, clearly uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation was headed. "I'd just like to be crystal clear on one thing."

"You're usually a clear, forceful communicator," interrupted Ron. Draco glared at him briefly, but otherwise ignored the comment.

"I don't care what my father thinks these days." To illustrate his point Draco added, "he didn't even want me to return to Hogwarts. Besides," he muttered under his breath, "I don't think anything will ever come close to making my parents angrier than when they found out that I'd been sleeping with a Hufflepuff all last year."

Ron starred open mouthed at the boy sitting across from him.

"What sort of Hufflepuff would sleep with a Death Eater?" asked Ron incredulously.

Draco lowered his voice in a conspiratorial manor, "what sort of Gryffindor would kiss a Death Eater?"

It was the first time the kiss had been mentioned, but Ron found that his thoughts often drifted to that moment and felt glad that Draco was not going to attempt to pretend that it had never happened. The quiet whisper came across seductive, something that Draco had not intended and Ron's cheeks flamed. The blush quickly travelled down his long neck. Draco smirked.

"Touch_é_ Malfoy." Ron prodded his pawn across the chessboard.

"It was Zacharias Smith," admitted Draco unabashedly, without Ron pushing for further information.

"Figures," muttered Ron.

"Pardon?" asked Draco, who was somewhat confused by Ron's response.

"Figure that you would like the most unpleasant Hufflepuff in the school," said Ron. "Smith is an absolute dick."

Draco shrugged and ordered his queen to dispose of Ron's bishop.

"I guess it also 'figures' that I'd have a minor crush on the most obnoxious Gryffindor to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts with his presence," thought Draco, sensibly making the wise decision to keep that particular thought to himself.

"So wait a minute here, you've known you were gay for over a year," said Ron.

"I've been pretty sure for ages," nodded Draco, watching Ron nudge his rook forwards.

"But you and Pansy..."

"Draco sniggered. "We were best friends. She found it amusing that people assumed we were a couple. She thought it was so obvious that I was gay... of course her hamming up the flirtations towards me for her own amusement convinced everyone else that we were together, even if I never returned her flirtatious glances." Draco paused. "It was amusing, if a little immature," he admitted with an embarrassed chuckle.

To change the subject, Draco decided to turn the tables and force Ron to answer his own questions.

"What about your family, Weasley? Worried that the read-headed troupe will discover that your associating with a known Death Eater."

Ron smiled awkwardly. He wanted to be able to say "no," but he certainly hadn't broadcast the fact that he was friendly with Draco, even though Ginny was totally desperate for him to interact with other people. Ron sat quietly unsure as to what would be the correct response.

"Don't worry; I'd be glad if it stayed a secret. I don't want a whole horde of Weasley brothers, not to mention the little Weaslette, hunting me down for corrupting you with my dark ideas." Draco's eyes glittered as a teasing grin spread across his face. "As for Potter and Granger, I can only imagine their reactions." Draco shivered theatrically.

"Hermione knows," said Ron. As an afterthought he tacked on, "everything."

The single kiss that they had exchanged over a week ago hovered between them. Ron wanted to throw himself at Draco and press himself against those teasing lips again, but he made the decision to remain firmly in his seat with the heavy chessboard situated between himself and the other boy.

"Just Hermione?" Draco questioned.

"Just Hermione," Ron confirmed.

"Good," was all Draco offered in reply.

In response to Ron's searching look Draco sighed, before attempting to explain himself. "Ever heard of guilt by association? Imagine what you'd be guilty of if people knew that you eat dinner with me, or that you choose to play chess with me, or that you kissed me! I may not have been charged with murder, but in the eyes of the general public I'm guilty of it. If you're seen consorting with me everyone will believe that you are guilty too. I will have infected you with my poisonous Death Eater reputation and I do not want that to happen," Draco explained forcefully, before directing his queen across the board.

"What about innocence by association?" Ron quipped. "Do you reckon that I could infect you with my reputation as a noble war hero?"

"Nah," Draco laughed easily. "I'm a Slytherin, Weasley. Do you think I never thought to use your good reputation to improve mine. But it wouldn't work. People don't like that sort of gossip. They like the kind that makes me look evil, the kind of gossip that drags people down. I mean. Look how fast a rumour started by Rita Skeeter spreads.

Ron nodded thoughtfully. Even though there was more to be said on the topic, the conversation drew to a close. The end of the chess game was approaching and the two competitive boys turned every ounce of their focus to the chess board.

* * *

"I've been thinking about what you said the other night Malfoy," said Ron, "...when you were talking about guilt by association. Well, I think you're wrong."

Draco looked up from his transfiguration textbook in surprise. He was certain he had explained it all very clearly.

Ron quickly continued, not letting Draco get a word in. "Dumbledore hung out with Grindelwald for years. The two of them plotted all those things for the 'greater good' and whatever. People let the past go, Dumbledore was seen as a great man even though he continued to surround himself with other people looked down on and considered 'guilty'. I mean, he trusted Snape," exclaimed Ron, "and everybody knew Snape was an ex-Death Eater! Mundungus Fletcher was a known thief, Lupin was a werewolf, Hagrid's half giant and everyone thought Harry was a mental case for a while there! Dumbledore consorted with all manner of people and he came out of it with a reputation as a 'brilliant wizard,' and 'the greatest headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen. I'm not saying that we have to announce to the world that we're friends, but you shouldn't feel that it's necessary to keep it a secret to protect my reputation. People'll think what they want to think, there's no way to predict what their opinions will be or rumours they'll spread."

Ron finished his rant and stood still, his face tinged lightly with pink, as he waited to hear what Draco would say.

"Maybe you're right," Draco conceded, "but do you really want to take that chance."

* * *

_Please Review, I absolutely adore reviews. I'd love your thoughts and opinions. :) _


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